Storytelling
by massivelyattacked
Summary: A brief exchange between a dwarf and a mage...for once, the storyteller is on the receiving end of a story.  A bit of fluff and friendship.


**So, as I was sitting waiting for my husband to turn over custody of the PS3 to me (since we're both addicted to DA2 atm), I took notice of these bangin' hairstyles the characters have. Everyone comes out of battles looking swell, and I wondered to myself "How do these people keep their hair looking just so?"**

**And thus, a story is born.**

**Bioware/EA = DA2 me (not sure how this equation works…it just does…**

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><p><em>Storytelling<em>

"So then Blondie says 'Pick on someone your own size!'," Varric declares, cackling wildly. She stares at him blankly, not quite understanding the punchline. "Really Hawke? You don't get it? He was talking to a dwarf! Disparity of height? Anders was bigger? No? I give up woman!" He throws his arms up in resignation and falls back into his chair.

"Perhaps I…missed something," she replies.

The dwarf shakes his head and leans forward, reaching for his mug of ale. "Why don't _you_ tell _me_ a story?"

She looks at him, surprised. "But you're the storyteller Varric. I couldn't do anything justice compared to you."

"Nonsense!" he exclaims. "After all, in order for me to tell your stories, you have to pass them on to me first."

She sits for a moment, thinking of what she could possibly tell him.

"Why don't you tell me something about Bethany?" he prompts. "You rarely talk about her, but I'm sure that the two of you got up to no good in your younger days."

She smiles, thinking on misadventures with her younger sister back in Lothering.

"That we did," she says. "I have such fond memories of my little sister."

"Then it's settled! A story of the sisters Hawke!" Varric demands. He bumps his mug on the table in time, while chanting, "Story! Story! Story!"

"All right, dear ser. I shall relay a tale so grand…so filled with excitement, that you shall rethink your own career as a raconteur!" she counters.

Varric smiles. Hawke is in rare form today. He would normally not put her on the spot as he has done, for she would likely have his head on a plate for it. But she is in a spectacular mood at the moment, and any time he can fish for more information about her past, he does. He settles back into his chair, preparing to listen intently.

She relaxes as well, propping up one leg on the end of the table, and crossing it with the other.

"Hmm…where to begin? I suppose I could tell you about our business venture," she says, looking to him for approval.

He nods quickly. "Business is my second favourite topic, next to Bianca of course."

"Perfect, then you should enjoy our entrepreneurial spirit, I believe," she continues. "If I recall correctly, I would have been about twelve years old at the time, Bethany just a couple years younger. Being apostates, it was difficult for our parents to allow us to play outside all of the time. Unfortunately for us, we would sometimes let our playtime get a little out of hand. And that would mean that we'd forget to hide our abilities. We'd play hide and seek, and Bethany would find the best places to hide. Up in trees, under brush…she was very small you see. Could fit into the tiniest of spaces. Yet, she was always fearful that I would catch her, and when Carver joined in, even more so. There was more than one occasion where she accidentally froze Carver in his tracks when he got too close. And then she'd run and run home, while he stood there – waiting to for the ice to melt. It wouldn't have been so bad if no one had seen him in that state. But, not only had a merchant from a neighbouring village seen him, but he also saw me trying to thaw him out. I heard the man shriek – as if someone had just committed bloody murder! I panicked and ran. Thankfully Carver had thawed out by that point and was also able to run before any authorities were called upon. Our parents were livid! None of us were allowed out of our home for at least a week."

"Is this why Carver has such a grudge against you?" Varric asks.

"Oh, I'm sure it's much more than that," she replies, smirking. "In any case, Carver was allowed to go outside after the week was up, but Bethany and I were forced to stay inside for longer. Our father had previous close calls with templars doing sweeping rounds through the village, and he wasn't about to take any chances with us. Bethany and I grew increasingly weary of the cage of four walls we were obliged to remain in. Even Carver wasn't truly allowed to leave the home for more than chores, and at the odd time to visit with friends a few homesteads over. But he mostly hunted. It was the season for grouse and quail. We always loved fresh game bird in our household. Livestock grew old and tiresome, and when we could catch fresh game, it was like Feastday!"

She reaches for her mug and takes a long swig of ale.

"Now my mouth is watering," Varric says.

She nods in agreement. "I miss fresh quail! We do need to look for it in the market. We are coming into season and the Free Marches _must_ have some game to hunt! But I digress. Now, where was I?"

"Carver hunting quail."

"Oh right. So Carver would be allowed to leave the house to help with the hunting. He adored it. It allowed him to escape his family of mages – do something useful. He was only as old as Bethany, and already he was trying to prove himself," she sighed. "Regardless, he was quite a good hunter. I remember one day, he brought home quite a take. He must have come across a family of birds, because he walked in the door…six, maybe seven necks in his hands! It was incredible! My parents were so proud of him. We were too, to tell the truth. We had lovely dinners for some nights, and sold some of the birds at market."

"Yet, I don't imagine that was what you referred to when you said 'entrepreneurial spirit'," Varric interjects.

"No, I'm getting to that. It's a wonder _anyone_ tells you anything the way you interrupt all the time!"

He bows to her. "Apologies, my good woman. Please…continue…"

She smiles at him and carries on. "What was entrepreneurial about the whole thing was the result of when Bethany and I were cleaning the meat off of the carcasses of the birds for dinner one night. I was examining the claws of one of the grouse, and pretended to brush her hair with it. She was a little horrified at first, but then her face just lit up. She was so excited that she almost burst before she spit out her idea of creating fancy combs out of the claws of the birds that were caught. Before we knew it, we were goading poor Carver into hunting more birds to provide us with the materials to make the combs. We created a few of them and went to some of the local women in town who longed to be prettier than their bodies and faces allowed them, and told them we had made combs from the claws of dragons! Some of them laughed and would just pat us on the heads and send us on our way. But we actually sold some of them for real actual coins. We couldn't believe it. Before long, we were selling them at the open market that was held fortnightly in the village. They were so popular – especially among the Orlesian women who sometimes traveled through. I'd like to think that we were able to trick a few people into believing that they actually came from dragons, but I know a couple of eyebrows were raised when Bethy insisted that _she_ was the dragonslayer."

She lounges back into her chair and looks longingly into her mug.

"I miss her Varric."

Varric nods. "I know you do. I also know that you need to stop blaming yourself for her being gone. It wasn't your fault. I know so because Aveline told me, and aside from you, she's the _only_ one of this lot that I trust."

"You're a good friend, Varric. Thank you," she says with an appreciative smile.

"I know," he replies. "But you forgot charming, witty and devilishly handsome."

She laughs. "I thought that all went without saying."

"Oh, you should most definitely say it. Repeatedly. In front of large groups of people," he insists.

She smiles and stands. Leaning towards the dwarf, she kisses his cheek softly.

"Don't go telling the world that the Champion of Kirkwall fell for your whims now," she orders.

"Hawke! I'm hurt! You know I don't kiss and tell," he laughs and nods as she heads out of his room back to the main tavern.

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><p>Varric stands and dusts himself off, exhausted. The Bone Pit, still burning from the dragon's attack, is starting to smolder. The body of the huge beast lies in the centre of the giant mine, vanquished. He can hardly believe that he and the others survived. While remaining at range for as much of the skirmish as possible, he was not able to get a good look at just how colossal the creature was when right upon it. He approaches the dragon's body cautiously, for he is not fully convinced they had managed to slay it. Eyeing the immense head, he walks slowly to the great claws of the dragon. He places a hand on one and looks back at Hawke. Thinking back to the story she told him, he smiles at her.<p>

"You and Bethany really were out of your minds if you thought that you were fooling anyone. Dragon combs, my ass…"


End file.
